Cat and Mouse
by E. Beckham
Summary: A search of Logan's locker has serious consequences. Based the pilot, Season 1. Warning: Spanking of a teen
1. Chapter 1

Sixth-period English was dragging on. I flipped ahead in the textbook to Whitman and read "Sometimes with One I Love." I must have tuned everything out, because suddenly Dick punched my shoulder.

"_Logan!_ Dude, did you go deaf?"

"Nope, just ignoring you. ...What?"

"Clemmons wants to see you."

"What? Why? …How do you know?"

"Someone brought a note. Teacher just told you to go. And, if I had to guess why, …probably so he can ask you to the prom," he added, smirking.

People around us laughed and I smacked the back of Dick's head playfully as I passed.

In my best southern drawl, I stammered, "Why, Mr. Clemmons, you're trying to seduce me, aren't you?" More laughter followed me out the door.

I looked down at the note, which said I should report to my locker. _Thank God, _just a locker search. I sighed, knowing that there was nothing incriminating in it.

Clemmons and a dorky looking deputy were already stationed next to the row of lockers.

"Good day, gentlemen. How can I be of service to you?"

"Logan, will you please open your locker?"

"Certainly, but only because you asked so nicely," I replied, grinning. I opened the locker with a Vanna-White-esq twirl. "There you go."

"Well, what's this, Logan?" Mr. Clemmons asked. "This would appear to be a device they use to smoke marijuana."

"That's exactly what it looks like," the deputy said.

_What the Hell? Where did that come from? _My head started swimming and I looked around trying to understand. That piece of shit bong wasn't mine.

"To the office," Clemmons commanded.

Kids started streaming into the hallway. I heard whispers and giggles. Someone joked, "Oh, man, Logan's busted."

That's when I spotted her. Veronica Mars. She stood quietly watching the scene unfold.

"It was _you_?" I asked, incredulous. When she made no response, I could feel a heat rising in me. "Listen, I know it was you."

I pointed at her, as she continued to stare. "Look, this isn't over, okay?"

Veronica, almost smiling, yawned exaggeratedly.

"You're so cute. I'll get you for this. I will," I promised.

Clemmons grabbed my arm, saying, "Come on. Let's go."

As we walked down the hall, I breathed another sigh of relief. Mom had said that Dad would be on location for the rest of the week… probably not home for a while. Now that _good news_ was _great news_.

Inside Clemmons' office, the deputy stood behind the VP, watching me silently. I smiled at them both, knowing I was coming off like a smug dick. Their intimidation bullshit always brought out the worst in me.

"Logan, we're going to call your parents to discuss this incident. Deputy Sacks agrees that since we found no drugs, only paraphernalia, that this matter can best be handled by your parents."

I nodded. …_If they only knew_, I thought. Mom would pretend it hadn't happened and Dad would kick my ass six ways from Sunday.

"I think we'll start by calling your dad."

"He's out of town, working. Better try my mom. I'm sure when she's done at the club, she'll swing by," I said, smiling again.

The deputy looked like he wanted to say something, but Mr. Clemmons just smiled slightly.

"No, Logan, your dad gave me a couple numbers where I could find him the _last time _you got in trouble. He said he wants to hear about any problems: grades, behavior, anything."

The little hairs on my neck stood up. I watched Clemmons put the phone on speaker and then dial the number. Fervently I prayed no one would pick up. Naturally, Dad's assistant Gisela answered with a sultry, "Hello?"

"Hello, this is Van Clemmons, vice principal at Neptune High School. I need to speak to Mr. Echolls about his son, Logan."

_Please, please, please be in the middle of shooting. Please don't let him answer._

"One moment please. Mr. Echolls is on set. If you could wait, I will see if he can take your call."

"Certainly, of course."

_Could it be working? Please, please, please!_

Then, after nearly ten minutes, I heard, "This is Aaron Echolls."

_Dammit._

"Yes, Mr. Echolls. This is Van Clemmons, vice principal at Neptune High School. I have you on speaker now and I am here with Deputy Sacks and your son."

"Ok…," Dad said, clearly getting annoyed.

"I am calling because you asked me to keep you informed if Logan got into any trouble. Unfortunately, today, during a search of your son's locker, we discovered a device used for smoking marijuana."

There was a moment of silence, and then Dad said, "Really? A bong? In his locker?"

"Yes. We found no evidence of drugs, so we have decided to turn the matter over to you to handle."

"Thank you, Mr. Clemmons. You said I am on speaker and that Logan is there?"

"Yes, he is. Logan, say something to your father please."

"Something," I said in a jaunty voice that I hoped was charming. Silence on the other line.

"Uh, hi, Dad. Sorry to interrupt your day. That bong isn't mine. Veronic—"

"Enough, Logan. Not another word. I don't want to hear any of your excuses. Do you hear me?"

_Ummm, am I supposed to answer?_

"I said, 'Do you understand?'" Dad's voice was harsh.

"Yes, sir. No excuses."

"I'll meet you at home. I should be there in about an hour. Be in my study, ready to discuss your punishment."

_Discuss_. I almost laughed. "Yes, sir."

"Mr. Clemmons?" Dad said.

"Yes?"

"Thank you for calling me. I'll deal with Logan and you should have no more problems out of him."

"I appreciate tha—" but Dad had already hung up.

Mr. Clemmons shook his head and took the phone off speaker.

"Logan, you are lucky that Deputy Sacks was willing to let your father handle this and not the juvenile court system."

I jumped to my feet and grabbed the deputy's hand, shaking it forcefully.

"Thank you, sir. I _definitely _appreciate your help. Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I've got to get home and _be_ _dealt with_."

I stormed out of the office and headed to my car. School was over and people were milling about. Dick intercepted me in the parking lot.

"Hey, man. Everyone's talking. You got busted with a bong?"

"Yeah." I kept walking.

"Dude, that sucks," he moaned. "Let's go surfing. That'll clear your head."

"Can't. Clemmons called my dad. He's leaving set now and wants me to meet him at home."

"Is he really pissed? Or is he playing the role of 'mad dad'?"

I laughed. Sometimes, Dick understood more than I thought he did. "I don't know."

"Well, forget him. It'll take at least an hour for him to get home. Let's surf until then."

"I don't know..."

"Look, we don't even have to go to the Strand. We can go to your house. So you can be there way before your dad."

The chances of me being able to surf any time soon, slim to none.

"Ok," I sighed. "But just for like 30 minutes. I can't risk getting caught. Not when he's already pissed. Can you imagine?"

"Instant death."

* * *

Dick, Beaver and I were just dragging our boards out of the water, when I checked my phone again for about the hundredth time. I still had about 20 minutes before Dad should be home.

"Ok, time to go. My dad could be pulling up any moment," I said, glancing back at my friends.

"Oh man, Logan," Beaver groaned, pointing back at the house. "Your dad."

My stomach dropped as I turned to see my father standing on the back balcony, looking down at us. I grabbed my board and booked it back up to the house. Should I dry off and change, which would piss him off more, or go straight to the study in my wetsuit? I dashed through the pool house and grabbed a towel. Then I ran in the house and to the laundry room, hoping for any clothes I could put on. I found some pajama pants and a t-shirt. Hurriedly, I stripped, dried myself and threw on the clothes. I sprinted up the stairs and went straight to my parents' room. I walked to the closest closet, my father's, and opened the sliding door where his belts hung. My breathing was erratic and my body tingled, expectantly. I reached for the brown Hermes belt that hung in the back. Quickly, I folded it and turned, moving as if in a dream, out of the room and to Dad's study. He stood in the door, looking ready to kill.

"Logan," he growled, not even letting me in the room. I backed into the doorframe, cowering as he raged. "When I tell you to be home, you damn well better be here, do you understand me?"

"Yes, Dad. Sorry." I offered him the belt, which he took, letting it unravel. Feeling nauseated, I walked to his desk and bent over it.

"Your lateness will cost you," he said.

I inadvertently groaned audibly and he grabbed my hair, pulling me off the desk.

"Do you have something to say?"

"No, sir," I whimpered, pushing my pants down while he still held my hair. He shoved me back across his desk and folded the belt. I heard the belt rushing through the air and smack sharply across my bare ass. I hissed, sucking air in, and gripped the edge of the desk. A second blow fell and the pain started to build. Dad took his time whipping my butt, thighs and back. Tears streamed down my face. The belt buzzed through the air, slapped, buzzed. Slapped. Just when I thought I couldn't take another lash, he threw the belt on the floor.

"Now, I have to go back to set. But if I get another call from _that school_, you will regret it."

"Yes, sir," I said, bending to pull the pajama pants up.

"And Logan? Leave your car keys on my desk. You won't be needing them for awhile."

"Yes, sir."

I listened for the front door and relaxed slightly when it slammed. Then I picked up the belt, returned it to its hook in the closet and walked stiffly to my bedroom. There I stretched out on the bed and cried myself to sleep.

I woke with a start about two hours later. Time to figure out how I'd get back at Veronica Mars.

* * *

**This is Logan with today's inspirational greeting: "I hate writing, I love having written." Dorothy Parker. Leave a review.**


	2. Chapter 2

Brad had been driving Mouth, Wes, and me around for about an hour when I finally spotted Veronica's shitty car parked at the public beach access. I sat on hood of the Sebring and could feel the little scabs on my legs and butt pulling. Stretching out was much more comfortable. Luckily, I did not have to wait long for her to notice us.

As Veronica, her pit bull and some black kid walked over, I leaned forward and greeted her with a smile. "Hey. Veronica Mars."

She stared blankly, making no response. I slid off her car and twirled the tire iron in my hand. I thought I saw, for just a moment, a bit of panic register in her eyes.

"Do you know what your little joke cost me?" I asked, keeping my tone light.

"Well, I am pretty sure you won't be getting your bong back," she replied, equally relaxed.

Immediately I swung the tire iron over my shoulder and back down into her passenger-side headlight, shattering it.

"Wrong answer," I grinned. "Would you care to guess again?"

"Clearly your sense of humor," Veronica replied, unfazed.

I smashed her other headlight, while the boys laughed.

"Nope. You're usually so good at pop quizzes."

I turned and faced her. "The correct answer is my car. That's right, my daddy took my T-Bird away. And you know what I won't be having?"

I stepped closer and smirked, "Fun, fun, fun."

We starred at each for a moment, until Mouth said, "Uh, Logan." But I already knew what he was going to say. I could hear the motorcycles, with their engines revving. Quickly, they surrounded us.

"What do we have here?" the leader of the PCHers, a guy named Weevil, asked. He moved around Veronica's car, shaking his head, observing the damage. He walked over to where I stood and addressed me directly.

"Vandalism? No, no, no. The only vandalism that happens in this town goes through me."

"Look, man, I don't have a problem with you," I said coolly.

"That's where you're wrong," he proclaimed and took a step closer, like we were going to fight. Four on 15, I calculated, were not good odds.

"Hey, yo!" a voice rang out. Behind us, Felix Tombs held up a CD he had just pulled from Brad's Tahoe and said loudly, "Is this O-Town any good? …I mean my little sister likes it, but, you know, she likes ponies and juice boxes, too."

The bikers were all laughing, while Brad, Mouth, and Wes looked like they were about to piss their pants. I heard the black kid whisper to Veronica, "I suddenly feel like I'm in a scene from _The Outsiders._"

"Be cool, Sodapop," she answered. I _almost _laughed. God, she was quick witted.

Weevil grabbed the tire iron from my hands and sauntered over to the SUV.

"Hey," Brad said, stepping in front of Weevil. "That's not his car. That's my mom's."

"She can bill me," the biker said. Then he smashed a headlight and repeatedly dented the hood of the Tahoe. The bikers cheered and jeered. Brad looked ill and I felt a pang of nervousness for my friend. Things were going sideways and, as usual, it was my fault.

Weevil looked around at my friends, shook his head disgustedly, and handed the tire iron over to a petrified-looking Brad.

"That's it," he announced. "Head for the hills." When no one moved, he growled, "I'm not gonna say it twice." Again, I had an urge to laugh. Weird to hear a teenaged biker sounding just like my father.

"Except for you," Weevil said, walking back to me. "You, say you're sorry."

"Rub a lamp," I said, smiling.

He punched me in my stomach. I knew the blow was coming, which only made it slightly easier to take. I doubled over, which caused me even more pain as the scabs on my butt were suddenly stretched. _Goddammit._

"I said, 'Say you're sorry,'" Weevil commanded.

As I stood up, I nodded, turned to Veronica as if ready to comply, and abruptly swung around to Weevil again. "Kiss my ass," I said boldly.

This time he punched me in the face, immediately bloodying my nose. _Damn, _I couldn't breathe.

Weevil laughed, "Now—"

"Let him go," interrupted Veronica.

"Are you sure? Because I could do this for awhile."

She looked me directly in the eyes. "I don't want his apology."

I tried to walk back to the car as if unaffected, but my nose, ribs, butt and legs were making it a challenge.

"Hope you guys are comfortable," I seethed, as I lowered myself onto the passenger seat the way a yogi might sit on broken glass, well observed. Brad gunned the SUV in reverse.

"Jesus, Logan," Brad whined. "I'm so dead. …You gotta tell my mom it was your fault."

I rolled my eyes.

"Come on, man! She's gonna _kill _me. I'll be grounded for like three weeks."

"We lead such similar lives," I remarked sarcastically.

"_What?_ Dude! I'll miss the kegger next weekend. _Come on_."

"Quit bitching," I snapped. "We'll figure it out. Besides… your mom likes me. Or, at least, ...she likes my dad."

Brad dropped off Mouth and Wes at their houses and then drove straight to his own. I didn't complain. I figured I could back him up on whatever lie he thought his mom would buy.

But I wasn't prepared for the idiot telling the truth. I mean, who does that?

After his mom heard the whole story, she looked at me and said, "Oh, Logan. This won't do. We'll need to go see your father about this _right now_. I'm sure he'll take care of everything."

"_Mom!_" Brad practically squealed. "You can't—"

Mrs. Garber's voice turned from sweetish to drill sergeant in seconds. "Bradley, go to your room. You're grounded until further notice."

My friend looked mutinous, but stomped away without another word. In a distant part of the house, I heard his door slam.

His mother said, "Logan, I'll be right back. I have to get my purse."

For a second, I considered running, but word would get around and running never helped anyway. At least 20 minutes later, Mrs. Garber returned looking almost like a different woman. Her hair and make-up were done and she had on some sort-of fancy outfit.

"Come on, Logan. I am going to drive you home. And then we can talk to your father about the car."

I followed her to the Tahoe and once we moving, I said, "Uh, Mrs. Garber? My dad is working outside of San Diego. I think my mom—" But I didn't even get the words out before she cut me off and made her real intentions clear.

"Well, then, I guess we have a bit of a drive, don't we?"

* * *

**This is Logan with today's inspirational greeting: "There are two kinds of light - the glow that illuminates, and the glare that obscures." James Thurber. Leave a review.**


	3. Chapter 3

We didn't talk much as we made our way to San Diego Studio Productions. At the start of the trip, Mrs. Garber did the disappointed-parent routine. Saying things like _Logan, I am so surprised that you would engage in such reckless behavior. _and _What will you father think about all this trouble you've caused? _and _I'm sure he raised you better than that._

Although I barely responded to her previous comments, she finally asked, "How do you think he's going react?"

_Well, Vivian, I think he's gonna beat my ass. But, for you, he'll do a Hallmark-movie-esq concerned-dad monologue, while I try not to puke or laugh in his face. It'll be great._

"Logan?"

"…Uh, I think he'll be really disappointed in me," I said in a bored tone.

"You don't seem concerned," she looked over at me for a bit longer than I liked.

"Oh, I _am _concerned," I said, more forcefully than I intended. She raised her eyebrows, but didn't seem convinced. A few minutes passed. The silence was making me uncomfortable.

"Yeah, so… I got in trouble recently. …_Veronica Mars _got me in trouble, which is why I went to find her. …It was stupid and I shouldn't have done it."

After a moment, I added, "I'm sorry about your car. I'll pay for it to be fixed, of course."

When we pulled up to the film studio lot, the guard checked our IDs and the approved visitors list, radioed to someone on set, and sent us through to meet the director's assistant. The guy who met us said that my dad was having dinner in his trailer, so he called for a gofer to show us where the trailer was. After about ten minutes, we were standing outside a trailer with the name Echolls on the door.

I stepped forward, knocked, and tried to remain calm. Gisela opened the door and said, "Logan, hi. Your dad didn't tell me you were coming."

"Yeah, he doesn't know. Could you let him know I'm here?"

"Of course. One moment, please." She stepped inside, letting the door close behind her.

Moments later the door snapped open. Dad already looked pissed until he saw Mrs. Garber. Quickly his expression softened.

"Logan? What is going on?"

"Um…, Dad, this is Mrs. Garber. She's my friend Brad's mom."

He smiled at Mrs. Garber and reached out to shake her hand. "Hi, I am Aaron Echolls. Nice to meet you."

Because she was a good-looking woman, in that mom-kinda way, I knew he would be decent to her. If she acted like a fan, he would really try to impress her. Puke.

"Vivian Garber. Nice to meet you, too, Aaron. …I must say I've seen all your films, I think," she confided, smiling slyly.

_Oh, gross_. Dad lit up and said he always loved meeting _true _fans. If Vivian only knew… that's what he called the crazy ones.

After some small talk, Dad turned back to me.

"So, again, I ask, 'What is going on?'"

"Mrs. Garber's car got messed up tonight and it was my fault. I'll pay for the repairs." I was not sure what else to say, so I added lamely, "Just thought you needed to know."

"Wait, what?" Dad sounded annoyed. "Tell me exactly what happened. Now."

Again, I tried but no words came and I ended up staring at the ground instead.

Mrs. Garber finally spoke, "Aaron, according to my son, Logan asked Brad to drive him around so he could find Veronica Mars. Once he did find her, Logan used a tire-iron to vandalize the Mars girl's car. Then bikers showed up and battered my SUV as retaliation."

She paused in her story to look at me seriously, turned back to my dad, and reached over to grasp his hand. "That's why I brought Logan to you. The damage to the car is one thing, but I knew you would be concerned and want to know about the way your son was treating a girl, even if it is the Mars girl."

"Thank you, Vivian. That is very true." He patted her hand, then slid his hand to her back and pulled her into a one-arm hug.

"Listen," he said coolly. "Why don't you stay for dinner? You've gone through a lot of trouble to help my son and it is the least I can do. If you'd like, I'll give you a tour of the set and then we can go have a look at that car of yours."

"What a generous offer! Yes, thank you. That would be lovely."

"Great," Dad opened the door and gestured Mrs. Garber inside. "I'll be right in."

Once Brad's mom was inside and the door closed, Dad walked straight up to me so we were practically nose-to-nose.

Then he scary whispered, "So, is that who you are? A tough guy who threatens girls? All those stories about my old man and this, _this _is how _you _act?"

My blood ran cold. I never met my grandfather, because he died before I was born. But the stories Dad told about him were awful. He beat my grandmother viciously and, when Dad would try to defend her, he would get a beating too.

I wanted him to understand that I wasn't picking on a delicate woman, the way his dad had. Veronica Mars was no innocent victim.

"No, sir. I can explain. It's just Veronica planted that bong. I—"

"If you want a hiding, here and now, you keep on talking," Dad hissed, his right hand moving to his belt. "Otherwise, I'll deal with you when I get home."

I looked him in the eyes trying to convey that I only wanted to explain, but I could see there was no reasoning with him. There never was. When would I learn? There was no reason to try. I looked at my feet and nodded that I understood.

"Gisela will drive you back. You better be there when I get home."

Again I nodded.

* * *

Once I was home, I told my mom everything that happened. I sort-of hoped this would be the day that my passive mom would defend me or say she would talk to my dad or, at least, say my dad was wrong. Of course none of that happened. Instead she made an Old Fashioned and took some Xanax. I watched her glide vaguely away to her room.

Once I was in my room, restlessness set in. TV, video games, messaging with Caitlin Ford… nothing could settle the dread I was feeling. Eventually, I gave up and went to bed.

My sleep was uneasy and filled with strange dreams. Abruptly the light was on and the sheet stripped off me, and my dad was slashing me awake with the belt. He struck my butt and legs mostly. I tried to be still after the belt hit my ribs when I turned. My already tender skin felt blistered and I had to grit my teeth to keep quiet.

Dad said nothing until he finished. "You will _not_ mistreat girls. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," I said breathlessly. _Only beat my kids. Got it._

I judged Dad a cruel son of a bitch and my mom was guilty for allowing it. If I was a juvenile delinquent, I might as well blame it on that. The adult world was baffling and mean and I cared nothing for its laws.

* * *

**This is Logan with today's inspirational greeting: "****Professional men, they have no cares; whatever happens, they get theirs." Ogden Nash. Leave a review.**


	4. Chapter 4

A few hours later, my phone chimed, waking me from sleep. I had two messages.

10:22 pm. Duncan: Call me.

11:47 pm. Duncan: I'm on your back terrace.

Another ding.

11:48 pm. Duncan: Let me in. I'm behind the giant flowerpot.

_What the hell?_

I walked down the hall, opened one of the glass French doors, and whispered, "Duncan? Are you out here?"

He appeared from behind one of the big flowerpots.

"Hey," he said.

"Come in. I'm pretty sure my parents are asleep."

We walked to my room.

"So, what's up, man?" I asked.

"I heard about the bong and that you think Veronica planted it. Dick told me you were planning on getting her back somehow."

Duncan paused and said quickly, "I just wanted to ask you _not _to do whatever it is you're planning. Just let it go."

He sat on the chair next to my desk, looking serious. I eased onto the bed.

"Uh, too late, man," I said quietly. "What's done is done."

He groaned and, after a moment, asked, "What did you do?"

I recalled the events of the day and felt stupid. As I said it out loud, _again, _I knew I'd overreacted. I finished by saying, "That's when Weevil and all the PCHers showed up and things didn't go as planned."

Duncan scowled, "Jesus, Logan, why do you have to be such a dick to her?"

"Man, I know I went too far. I just was so pissed. …Veronica had gotten me in so much trouble with that bong. I just lost—"

"_What? _You didn't even get suspended. And your dad just took your car away. _So what? _You should be thankful you didn't get in more trouble."

"I did."

"You did _what_?" Duncan asked.

"I did get in more trouble," I repeated.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean my dad beat my ass."

"_Come on, Logan_."

"I'm serious, man. Twice, actually."

Duncan looked disbelieving then stammered, "You mean, Aaron actually…? He really…? …_What?"_

"I mean Aaron believes in corporal punishment. Taking a belt to my ass is supposed to teach me to be a better person… or whatever. Clearly, it's working," I smirked, trying to joke.

"Dude," my friend whispered, shaking his head. "This is not right. …Are you okay?"

"I will be."

"_What do you mean?"_

"I have some welts, but otherwise, I'm fine."

Duncan looked pained.

"Listen," I said straightforwardly. "It's nothing that hasn't happened before. It'll probably happen again. I know how to take it. So don't worry."

"Will you show me?"

"Wha—?"

"…I mean, not to be weird or anything, but I just want to know that you're really okay."

For a moment I hesitated, but then I stood and pushed my pajama bottoms down just a bit to reveal some of the marks the belt had left. Nothing too serious.

Duncan looked ill.

"Man, I am sorry I didn't know. I mean I knew you got spankings when we were kids, but I just didn't think…."

"Duncan," I said so sharply that he looked up, startled. "You didn't know, because I didn't want you to know. I still don't want anyone to know. …I'll be eighteen soon enough and will get the hell out of here. So don't make this a bigger deal than it is. ...Okay?"

My friend nodded, stood suddenly, and hugged me.

When he finally let me go, he said seriously, "Logan, I am not kidding. You don't have to keep taking this from your dad. Come stay with me any time. _...Okay_?"

"Yeah. Will do. …Uh, thanks, man."

As we walked to the door, I added, "I'm sorry about how I treated Veronica. I just got worked up."

"I'm not worried about that anymore. Besides, she's a big girl. She can take care of herself. In fact, she's probably planning some way to get back at you. You should really watch out," Duncan whispered, smiling. Then he snuck out the back terrace, the same way he'd come.

* * *

**This is Logan with today's inspirational greeting: "Everything is funny, as long as it's happening to somebody else." Will Rogers. Leave a review.**


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